#creatures x reader

The door wasn’t left open. The shamble thing thudded within its frame as the wind tugged on it. She had left everything, the whole structure, wide open, without any chance for you to protect yourself.

The talisman was gone. The nail it hung on sat empty. It hadn’t fallen, hadn’t been displaced.

It had been taken.

You leaned harder against the wall, pushing yourself up, knees knocking against one another, your thighs sliding sickeningly smoothly because of how wet you were.

That thing had to have known that you'd go here first and waste precious time.

By now, the moon touched the town, dimly lighting the thin hallway, beams shining past the smallest gaps in the blinds. It signalled the end. The beginning.

You spun, shuffling to the kitchen area as fast as you could. The quake in your body slowing your pace to a snail's. It spared not even your teeth, tooth and molar shattering together. Heat licked along your nerves. It burned. Your lower body ached to the point you wanted to shove a hand where the fire scalded the fiercest, mind zoning in and out, something more beastly crying within.

But you couldn't even do that. Your hands still sat bound behind your back.

The cramped kitchen had knives. Shoved inside the lone drawer. You could cut the rope through. Your clattering teeth pressed together, pain snapping along your jaw. You could do it. Had wasted enough time already. Soon they’d infiltrate town. Then they’d eventually come looking, realise they could get inside and—

Legs froze beneath you, toes curling. Heat pulsing so vividly, they gave out, body slumping over like wet paper. A sound stuck to your throat, forehead pressing to the cool floor. You squirmed, trying to stand again. Shame shot the ache all the deeper as you tried, your body nearly presenting itself with how your hips lifted up, chest pressed into the ground.

To no one. To anyone. Anything.

As long as it cooled your body down, and, settled the pain in your loins, why would it matter who fucked—

A screech permeated from the forest pressed to your house, pouring ice alongside the heat.

As if they could sense someone was in distress.

God—

You needed—needed to hide. It would go away. Even as it stripped your sanity off one sliver at a time, the heat would stop. That thing’s power couldn't just remain. You only had to hang on. The binds could wait. Your safety could not.

With difficulty, you shuffled your knees beneath you. And when you finally rose—

Something thudded outside. Quiet. Rhythmic.

The old, splintered wood creaked under the weight of footsteps. They roamed, then paused. Long enough that dread left its growing taint. It knew.

It knew, it knew, it knew—

You pushed yourself forward as boards shattered somewhere in your unwanted home—the living room, or the small study attached to it. Clattering to the ground as they were shredded from the already broken window.

With a sway in your steps, you stumbled forward. Back to the bedroom. The room furthest from the sound. Your mind spun, tried to grasp beyond the keening need. For a place to hide. A plan. A way to remove the binds.

Whichever monster it was, it kept quiet after the violent entry. Shoes slowly tapping around, muffled by the walls. As if it knew you were even slower. Compromised.

Maybe it did. They could smell disturbingly well. Smelled the dried blood from a scraped knee from beyond the door once.

Stealth would be your only ally. Not speed or strength. What you were fleeing from, you couldn’t acknowledge—Sophia’s words, their words, their stares—they implied anything but death.

Your body rushed the remaining distance on its own, panic stringing you forward.

The steps neared the door that led to the hallway. Your eyes darted over the bedroom, the closet which could fit a person, the bed with enough space beneath, the window—

The window.

Before you could think, you stumbled to the lamp on your bedside table. An ugly, sturdy thing with peonies on its body. It would serve a better goal now. Twisting to grab it, your fingers managed to clamp on in time with that door slowly creaking open.

Without thinking you ripped it loose, momentum on your side when sweat slick fingers slipped off.

The thing flew and crashed into the window, thin glass shattering, nicking wallpaper and curtains as they clinked to the ground like raindrops.

Your breath had stopped somewhere along the way. Quiet fell over the house. Then the steps thundered, whispered, thundered down the hall.

To the bedroom.

Your body flew after the lamp, uncaring for the shards still within the frame. The world spun, stars spanning over your vision in stripes until your face hit grass, pain shooting up your cheekbone.

A whimper crawled itself up your throat—pained, wanton—spilling like condemnation into the cool night. The breeze tugged at your dress, still miraculously clinging to your chest. It brushed over your feverish skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Getting up was even harder this time. Even though—

You tugged on the binds, a small shock pulsing through your heart. The rope gave away with fresh blood streaming over your wrists. Planting them to the ground, you began to straighten, looked up and—

Locked in place.

Eyes peered down at you from the window. Bored into yours. But that was impossible.

He—

The shirt was different, white where it used to be flannel. Everything else was near identical. The red hair. The too wide grin.

—was supposed to be dead.

The body had been burned.

His hands planted themselves on the frame, fingers so human pressing into broken glass carelessly.

It snapped something within.

Adrenaline poured along the fire. Your head felt like it would roll off, fog creeping in to replace your brain.

The chuckle of the creature was left behind as legs kicked off. Your arms flailed beside your body, trying to keep balance. You pushed forward one step at a time. The roar in your head didn't hide the thud somewhere behind you. The glass crunching undershoe.

Your palm met the side of your home, heart racing, lungs aching for breath.

But what felt like seconds were actually minutes. Your brain deluded itself that you moved quickly, and when you peered behind—

An arm already snared around your waist. Your body gave out the instant weight settled against you. Your starved skin cried out, latching onto the warmth. The limbs settling over your falling form. Your jaws clashed together, tongue stuck between snapping teeth. Iron spilled over your tongue.

You tried to struggle, something inside purring when warm hands stroked over your shoulders and your bare upper back. Appreciatively. You screamed internally. Tried to remember the blood that coated those very same hands. Tried to stop the wetness between your legs. Keeping them closed despite instinct begging to spread them.

“How unique.”

The soft spoken creature lifted you up, moving you until you sat splayed in his lap, back to his chest. Your dress rode too low down your thighs, making you pull it straight. Shock shot up your spine when he shifted beneath you. You knew what sat pressed against you. Couldn’t fully comprehend it.

“I think I understand now—who did this to you.”

The polite tone left you guessing as to his intentions. Words tried to form in your head, twisting into desires you didn't dare risk uttering. You clamped your teeth together in the hope it would still the need, pressing your stinging tongue to the roof of your mouth.

“You must be in so much pain.” His cheek pressed against yours, arms curling fully around you to keep you close. He reached to cradle a wrist, turning it to see the rope burns and the one sharp cut at the side. His thumb rubbed at the blood below the slits, smearing it. “You should’ve waited. I might’ve kept you to myself. But you always liked to complicate things,” he whispered, a hint of hunger beneath.

“But I can still have you to myself for a little longer.” A smile curled into the words. "It's only fair.”

That’s when it registered. More footsteps. Distantly shuffling along the road behind you, below the howling wind. Multiple sets.

Smiley, who should be dead, should be ashes, stood abruptly. A gasp escaping you when he dragged you up with him. Your feet hardly grazed the ground as he pulled you along, further past the house. The force jostled your body, gravity melding you firmer into his. Fresh warmth trickled down your thighs.

A cry for help tried to leave you. Only for it to come out as a wordless gasp. No one would've heard you anyway. The house was too far from others. Too deeply pressed against the forest. And the ones who would hear had no intentions of helping you.

The light of town started to fade as he entered the forest. The pace he set was brisk. Quicker than usual. A little faster and it could be called a jog. Fear twisted at your gut, sensing his excitement. Even as heat gnawed eagerly at your loins.

His tight grip pressed uncomfortably on your ribs. “Please,” you managed between the breaths squished from your lungs. His chest reverberated against you with a low chuckle.

“Almost.”

A shape neared, forming into the cabin you sometimes retreated to. A spare mattress sat in it. Pretense telling you it was possible to hide from the creatures by swapping sleeping places every now and then.

And now it would be used for—

You pressed your eyes shut, a whimper falling from your mouth. The rapid gait slowed to a stop before the cabin. You had expected him to rip the door open, but he gently set you down on unstable feet before it. His grip moved to your shoulders, thumb too close to your pulsing artery.

“Open the door.”

Your brows furrowed. You tentatively craned your head, met the intensity of his gaze.

“Can’t you?”

The grin twisted darkly. “I want you to do it.”

The heat whispered to listen. The cold of the wind escalated the fear not to. Your wrist ached when you reached, cuts pulsing, numbed by the worser agony coiling in your core.

And you needed—

Wanted that strength. That wildness. The promise in his eyes that said he’d leave you a mess.

The door fell open with nary a pull, wind ripping the work from your hands as it soared. A hand snapped around the frame before it could slam into the cabin’s side. As if he truly meant to keep you to himself. More heat boiled inside you at that, a part of you longing for that quiet claim.

He pressed forward immediately, crowding you inside. The door shut behind him. Quietly. Sending shivers down your spine. There would be no escaping now. You found you didn't entirely want to anymore.

There was scarcely any light. You twisted to face him. Enough to see the shape of a hand closing in. Soft pads trailed along your cheeks.

“What do you want?”

You froze. They brushed lower, down the side of your neck, your shoulder, clasping you there, thumb rubbing gentle circles in soft flesh.

“I—” Your voice shook. That part that screamed and raged and pleaded for this to stop formed into desperation. Your fingers curled, twitching to shove them inside yourself. But why would you when he could be—

“Want you i-inside,” you slurred, tongue thick, words shaped by quiet agony.

The moon kept his face in the shadows, his tall frame avoiding the dim shine from low windows.

The grip softened. Tightened. Then—

You gasped as you tipped over for all but a second. Then fell on the mattress, weight settling atop you immediately after. Instinct had you fight, hands pushing at the chest above you, the pain that would surely come—

His quiet chuckle broke over your skin in boiling heat, legs closing, rubbing against his thighs.

“I like seeing you this way.”

Lips pressed to yours. Firm. Too hard. As if this was foreign to him. New. You tried to twist away, only for him to crane your face back, angling you the way he wanted. He moved against you, unhurried, slow. Like the way he hunted. He licked at you, entering your mouth too easily for you to say it was unwanted.

And like a dam, the heat spilled over. You arched into him, tugging on his clothes. Sliding down his chest to reach for his zipper. Only to meet his belt. Your fingers slid over it, trying to unclasp the thing without success. You whined against him, bucking up like an animal.

He chuckled, parting from you to make quick work of the buckle, poised unnaturally over you while doing so. The lack of strain should be a turn off. It only made you clench.

The second you could, you pulled his pants down. Enough to free his length. He let you, dipping his head to lick a long stripe along the column of your throat. You bit at your lower lip, flesh rippling beside you to form jagged blades for teeth that snagged on your skin. You couldn't care less right now. Needed that ache to go away. Your fingers found him, hard, long, and took him in your hand.

“Inside,” you whined, slipping your soaked underwear aside. Trying to guide him to your heat.

The tip barely grazed you. The creature retreated a little, likely studying you as usual. You almost didn't notice, too focussed on wriggling yourself against him. A frustrated groan, edging close to a sob, left you when he hovered just shy from where you needed him.

You didn’t even get a chance to prepare before his hips suddenly snapped forward. Spearing you in one smooth motion. The deep, horrible ache spreading around him, tightening, muscles jerking. Your breath stuttered, mouth falling open. Almost cried in relief, the intrusion anything but painful. You were too wet for that.

Fabric beside your head ripped to shreds, claws tearing into the mattress. His hips pulled back—

“They’ll be here soon,” he said hoarsely.

—and roughly pistoned forward. He set a brutal pace, wet skin slapping against skin, sound after sound pushing from your body. Panting, keening, quietly sobbing. He leaned over you, his face nuzzling against your throat where blood trickled down in slow beads. A strange cross between a purr and a growl rumbling against you.

You couldn't care less. Didn't care how inhuman that was. The cock inside you wasn't.

Sliding deep, dragging over spots that had never been this sensitive before. The pace was perfectly smooth. Perfect to get lost in, your brain taking a backseat after all the stress. It forgot about the moldy scent, the creaking panels above. Only focussed on the jerk of your body, the bounce of your chest, the way you were filled so good. So hard.

He wrapped an arm under you, lifting your hips higher. You held onto him, nails embedding at his neck. The new angle let him pound even deeper, something so sensitive being hit, it had stars burst behind your eyelids.

“Oh God, yes.”

He didn’t grin. Didn’t show smugness for once. His teeth were bared against you in a snarl instead. Nails dug into your back. He snatched your wrist up, something long and wet lapping against it. Curling and twisting around open flesh. You cried out as sharp pain snapped along your limb.

“Yes, cry for me,” he murmured, something inhuman echoing through his voice.

Then he grabbed both your wrists, shoved them to the mattress and slammed into you, pushing air from your lungs. Impossibly faster, giving you no moment to breathe as every spot within lit up, snaring the coil tight.

“I missed you.”

There was not a single sign of strain in his quiet admission. No sign of being out of breath. It shouldn't make you clamp down the way it did. Shouldn’t have tears prick at your eyes as heat swallowed you whole, thighs trembling around his sides.

Shouldn't have a scream tear from your body as the whole of the heat soared into a searing high.

Teetered.

And didn’t drop.

You choked, head twisting side to side wildly. The rapid pulse of his hips left you in ecstasy and agony both, the tension pulling you taut. Cries tumbled from your lips. You tried to push against his grip, the slick of blood coating your wrists and his hands wholly.

Smiley lowered to whisper in your ear. “You’ll be ruined before they’ll have you.”

His hips stuttered as he twitched within you. Startling clarity hit you when warmth filled you in pulsing shots.

“W-wait—”

The growl that left him made you snap your teeth together. His face was no longer human. Sharp teeth snarled down at you, pressing close to your chest as he bowed forward.

Only to watch his face turn back after the pulsing stopped. Calmly. After he… After—

“You won't bear child. Not from us.”

Your eyes snapped to his, releasing the sight of where your bodies joined. Even in the dark, you saw the lack of a smile. The uncanny seriousness.

Then he pulled back, wet squelching filling the cabin. And slowly pushed back in, forcing a gasp from you. He thrusted shallowly, still hard inside you.

Footsteps neared, louder than usual. As if to announce themselves.

“Be happy with that. Some would like you pregnant more than the child that would come from it.”

“And y-you?” The question came out quietly, as if it shouldn't be spoken aloud at all.

This time, a smile did grow on his features. Twisted and fond all at once.

“I would kill it.”

Something within you recoiled. Remembered what he was. Then a pad rolled over your clit, arching your back as pleasure zapped even to your toes, curling them as heels dug in his back.

The door opened, a gust of wind snapping through the cabin, raking cold shivers over heated skin. Your head twisted, not coherent enough to recognise the two shadowy shapes in the doorway. The weight of their attention burned into you, making your hips buck into Smiley's touch.

They stepped inside, calmly, as if they hadn't stumbled upon something private.

“You kept her all to yourself,” a feminine voice spoke, a light reprimand there. Light hair, long dress. No. It had buttons. A swing coat.

The other was easier to recognize. The shape of his hat, the posture, unmistakable.

Your heart shivered behind your ribs. Stuttering as fingers pinched your clit, rolling it between them. Your eyes fell shut, head falling back. Breaths ragged.

So close.

Muscles in your belly clenched in preparation, a low keen falling from an open mouth as it overwhelmed you. Nails bit in his shoulders, fabric bunching between. Smiley’s slow push and pull your undoing—the only thing grounding you as your mind blanked, thoughts fizzling out.

Then you floated. Drifted as a distant, sobbing scream howled together with the storm raging beyond the cabin. You slumped, mind blacking out.

Sensation returned slowly, your limbs splayed around you, sweat coating your skin. The heat was still there. Bearable now.

You limbs splayed around you, cushioned by the mattress. Panting softly as your heart calmed down a little, momentarily forgetting where you were. And with whom.

A hand carded through your hair. Uncaring of the sweat.

“That was beautiful, dear.” It was the feminine voice from before. Your eyes rolled to her, only now noting you were empty, the door had shut, bodies had shuffled and two were awfully close. Her teeth glinted at you, surrounded by painted lips.

“We’d like to see it again.”

Your gaze just barely met the cowboy’s at your feet, before you were twisted, belly flat on the mattress, air stilling inside you. A slow touch wrapped around your hips, rubbing soothingly. Then pulled you up on your knees. You yelped, tried to lift yourself on all fours, but a gentle hand—a third, feminine—pressed between your shoulder blades.

“Sshh, let us do the work, yes?”

The quiet command zapped straight to your core, setting off a low quake in your legs.

The lady creature set her handbag aside. You gulped as she reached beneath the coat, flushing when she dragged her underwear down. Simultaneously, the cowboy removed your own panties, the fabric sticking stubbornly, but releasing you near eagerly.

She settled in front of you, unbuttoning the coat enough to—

A shuddering breath escaped you as their plan for you revealed itself, hot shame and excitement nearly flooring you. Her legs spread wider, the cowboy’s belt clinking too loud in the creaking cabin.

“Please,” you whispered, eyes closing, nails pushing into the fabric underneath you. “T-too much. I can’t—”

“You can,” the cowboy said, so softly it numbed you like poison. “Your little pussy’s going to be all nice and sore once we're finished with you.”

It had you clench, more wetness dripping down. Despising the thrill at being promised more.

“So sweet for us,” he purred, spreading you with his thumbs. You bit your lips trembling anew. “It’s almost a shame to unwrap such a pretty gift.”

Something wet pressed against you, paving a stripe up to your hole. Dragging a shuddering breath from you as you bucked backwards, seeking the sparks he left behind. He licked again. And again, the tip of his tongue teasing at your clit.

“You only need to be a pretty, wet thing for us now,” the lady creature murmured, unbuttoning her coat fully.

And that was the truth of it, wasn't it? Your fate in these monsters' claws was this, and this only. You told yourself it was purely fear that had you relent.

Fear that kept you pliant as he eventually grabbed your hair to steer your mouth to the lady before you. Terror that froze you when he entered from behind while your tongue lapped too enthusiastically. Goaded on and slowed by the eyes watching from the side. The nails scratching along your scalp. The hot coil of being called a good girl, sweet thing, pretty little human—

Because the truth—

The truth was impossible to accept.

To the side, with his pants back in order, Smiley stood. His words came back, spilling through a nearly gone mind. How he’d have kept you to himself.

And you believed him. He’d have let you go. Continued playing games.

These two—

Your breasts were released with a tug on the dress, body drawn up to expose them. They cupped you, felt as your chest bounced and heaved with your breath and his thrusts.

● The Creatures don't need to see the strain and fatigue surrounding your eyes. They don't need to notice the sluggishness to your movements or the way you are hiding discomfort. They can smell it already. The hormonal changes, yes, but the blood too.

● The Creatures most acquainted with you know exactly when you're nearing that time of the month where you're more vulnerable. Even before you do it yourself.

● They're aware you're more fragile during that period. Your immune system will be less strong, your emotions may be all over the place and then there is the pain.

● They can't help feeling a little excited everytime. It's a natural instinct when smelling blood and seeing pain or vulnerability. And if you're less able to reel emotions in, that gives them an advantage over you as well. They are not above using that against you if they want to derail, contain or capture you.

● In the end though, their reaction depends on which Creature and the severity of your discomfort.

A select few might distance themselves a little if you live with them.

● Like the Nurse or the Milkman. Neither wants to hurt you exactly. Has no true motivation in making you bleed. The Milkman is more inclined to leaving bruises and nicks however, unlike the Nurse.

● But that scent mixed with heady hormones... They know they are still predators at heart. And when it comes to your scent specifically, self-control can be quite difficult.

● So the Milkman shows care through bringing comfort foods instead. He knows certain teas might help with sleep and will attempt to gather ingredients for it. He isn’t too big on teabags some humans bring into the Township. He’d much rather bring fresh ingredients.

● The Nurse would occasionally check in, smothering you in soft touches and will adjust your blanket and pillow if you're lying down. She’s tempted to curl up around you if you’re in a lot of pain. And she will if she’s too distracted by your pain to feel anything regarding your blood.

● But they usually keep their distance. They silently implore you to heed the unspoken warning, because they are more vulnerable to giving in to baser urges now. Even if that's what you want, it's not what they want. Intimacy is fine to a certain extent. As long as you don’t push for more violence.

● Pushing their boundaries so they’ll lose control anyway can lead to quiet punishments afterwards. Stone walling and absence being the biggest. Their anger at your disrespect leads to them withholding things. Never necessities, but don’t expect your favorites or much affection for a while.

Other Creatures will overdramatize sympathy.

● Jasmine and the Handbag lady will quietly listen to anything you have to say. They'll agree with your grumbling complaints, giving words of understanding despite no longer remembering what it was like for them.

● At the same time, Jasmine can be unsympathetic. Or at least, she simply shows it whereas the Handbag lady doesn’t. This is how your body functions, you can only accept it.

● But she'll still offer her companionship, keeping a hand on your head as you lay down in her lap. She’ll still listen and silently guard over you if you’re bedridden. She tends to withhold from touching you too much. Though, soft kisses to your temple or cheek become more common. But full on intimacy needs to be initiated by you.

● On particularly bad days, she’ll try to find you something to cheer you up or distract you with. With a book most likely. Or tales she’s heard. Spooky rumors or stories with foolish protagonists who’ll reap what they sow.

● The Handbag lady is secretly pretty content when you’re vulnerable. She likes hoarding you in whatever den you’re at. Whether that be your bedroom or somewhere in the caves. The idea of you being in a spot she can reach, but no one else really can, thrills her. She lingers near it, always close enough to hear you if you decide to roam around yourself.

● Then she’ll basically stalk you from a distance, keep you in sight. Your blood lures her in. She knows she’s hunting you. Perhaps you do too and try to play along. If you allow it, she will hunt you properly. And if she wins, you’ll be on your back underneath her very quickly, bottom half bare before her. Exactly where you belong.

And some others still, a very rare selection, will feel awkward.

● The Tough guy is a little lost on what to do when you curl up around yourself, cramps weighing you down heavily. He'll stick to your side. Watch over you. Snapping up anything he deems a threat. But when you require things, that's where he freezes.

● Blankets or something like a plush? No problem. Food or water? Check. Though he isn’t the best at preparing anything, he’ll do his best for you.

But affection...? His brain stops.

● It's not like he doesn't know how to be gentle. But you seem so small all of a sudden. So fragilely human with this normal bodily function. Even as you push yourself to go through your day normally, a being like him can see right through your facade.

● Any affection will be stiff. Too careful where you may desire a solid embrace. He needs a lot of time, but your periods still overwhelm him every so often. He'll smell your hormonal changes, knows that time is nearing and prepares the best he can.

● Smiley is initially pretty unsure as well. Not for the same reasons, but because he thrives on banter with you. He enjoys teasing and prodding. Likes seeing how far he can go before you snap back at him.

● He’ll lie beside you. Keeping a large palm over your belly, and acting like a living hot water bottle while you suffer from cramps. He doesn't really know what you need in these moments, but tries anyway. If that means becoming your teddy bear for the time being, then so be it.

● He finds he doesn't quite like your tears when he pushes you too far while your hormones run amok. And fatigue and pain makes them only run faster.

● He's never seen you cry before. It's such a messy, human thing that he enjoys in his victims. But you aren't that.

● He likes your irritation. Frustration. Anger. All your excitement and wariness. Not this. Tears are only necessary for when he stimulates you past your limit by other means.

● It freezes his smile in place while he tries to figure out what to do now. Until it slowly drops, hands hovering by his sides. Only now does he begin to understand these monthly changes aren't fun. They're risky. Make you more unpredictable—and, like the others realised far sooner; more vulnerable in a way.

● He believed treating you the same as usual was respectful. A sign he didn’t treat you as a porcelain doll like some of his brethren. Now he sees he may have to adjust a little anyway.

● So he learns the limit. Studies your mood thoroughly. Only then is he confident of how far he can push. If he can at all. When you’re genuinely in pain or your mood is already bad, he'll be quieter, his voice softer, movements slower. All to appear less threatening.

He never wants to see you cry like that again.

And the Cowboy?

● Sorry to say it, but he sees a five-star course and hopes you’re serving, because he’s starved.

● That you’re more sluggish and potentially slightly weaker physically excites him a lot. Keeping you down is already so easy, but now you’re both softer and harder around the edges. Snippish, yet your arm sits curled where your body aches. Grumbling and snarling, but craving softness and warmth. Such contradictions draw him in.

● He wants to provide. Wants to take. And if you’re willing, he’ll be between your legs multiple times a day, licking up what you serve and serving as a distraction to your pain himself.

● Afterwards, he’ll lazily massage your thighs, your back and belly. He doesn’t even need to be inside you right now. Fully content to have tasted you at your most vulnerable.

● But sometimes his fingers linger over where your womb lays hidden beneath skin and muscle. You're asleep in his arms, resting after he’s finally finished with you. In that quiet, broken only by your breathing, he ruminates. Feeling your warmth beneath his palm, he can’t help but wonder what you’d look and smell like swollen with his child.

● but just as quickly as the thought came, he moves on. Forgets ever thinking about something so foolish.

● It wouldn't be obvious to them at first. While humans sometimes showed attraction to them, it was always to their human form. Not what lingered beneath. So they wouldn't guess that what interested you was what made them inhuman. Not the facade that let humans delude themselves the creatures were like them.

● Maybe you kept your interest a little grounded at first. To test the waters so to speak. But even then, you asked about their ‘other’ face quite a lot. Even to see it. Only to follow with more questions. Whether their skin was warm or cold. Whether they could taste or feel the way a human can. Or if breathing was necessary for them.

● You never really shied away from them. It suited them just fine. It would make you easier prey. Or so they believed.

● And of course it just so happens that you had a pretty solid room with sturdy walls. Your scent of arousal had no chance to drift towards them. They could only slowly come to realise certain things all by talking with you and studying your reactions.

● After some time you developed favorites. It was obvious in the way your eyes flickered up and down certain creatures, but only remained on the face of others. How your smile gained an edge whenever they neared, but with others it remained mostly polite.

● It solidified the idea that you were attracted to their human face. Why would they conclude anything else? They never really showed the other and all humans reacted with terror and disgust upon seeing it. You wouldn't be any different once your end came.

Meanwhile…

● You felt way too warm thinking about those creatures.

● Not because of their, admittedly, terrible human act. But everything they are. The human face and the one they rarely showed. You knew they were dangerous, of course you did. It horrendously only made them more appealing. Things you only ever fantasised about could be real if they just stopped being so murderous.

● That wretched interest showed itself through a plethora of questions. The only ‘safe’ way to interact with them, purely because there was a talisman in the way.

● Some questions were innocent enough. Others more akin to… whether they could lift up a person. And for how long. A very normal thing to ask murderous cryptics, you’d argue if anyone asked. Very sciency.

● And some Creatures were just so uncanny, so… attractive precisely because of it. That redheaded one. The lady with the headband. Those two tickled your brain all the right ways whenever they smiled their broad grins. Their facial muscles never faltered despite keeping the same expression for hours on end.

● “Do your muscles ever tire?” you asked the redhead one decisive evening. He had blinked, narrowed his eyes, said that “no, we don’t tire like you do.” And the images flashing through your mind would give Boyd a heart attack had he known.

● Why had that evening been decisive? Because you got drunk. Whatever it was you had said to the poor ginger, you weren’t fully sure, but it managed to wipe his smile off cleanly, an emotion close to shock widening his eyes. Something to do with the whole ‘holding someone up for hours on end’ and ‘turning you into an overstuffed cream bun’. Oh, and don’t forget the whole ‘putting those nasty teeth in your throat’ part.

● ...Oh well, with that out in the open, you figured it was time to come out clean and stop pretending.

With varying results…

● Smiley had initially believed you were just playing a strange game. What human would want his sharp teeth anywhere near them? Admittedly, you had always been a bit off. Curious, like him. It matched quite well. You’d ask him something and in return you’d answer a question of his own.

● He’d simply use that to his advantage and learn what you were doing… Once he had processed your words properly and the giddy excitement they instilled.

● He wasn't avoiding you, he was simply... thinking. He'll come back soon. Ready for this strange game to continue. He may not be fully aware of what a cream bun was, but he had a pretty solid guess. Maybe... he could see to extracting a clear answer—a direct answer to what you meant. No metaphors, but blunt, honest truth. He felt only more giddy at the many ways you might respond to that.

● Your next victim was a little more stupified. The Tough guy didn’t really speak, but he liked to watch you. You tended to ramble at him, acting like he was an active participant in the conversations. He did occasionally find himself nodding along or shaking his head in disagreement, pulled in by your hand movements.

● This evening was different. He studied your expression, your body language, lingering on parts he imagined squeezing between his fingers. You sighed melancholically, drawing his attention. You looked quite downtrudden much to his confusion. Watched him intently. “If only eyes could fuck,” you… bemoaned.

● He forgot to blink, becoming very still. Especially when a smirk crossed your face. “Isn’t that why you keep looking, big guy? Maybe you should use those claws to rip the wall apart. And something else,” you said with a wink, tugging on your clothes.

● That was… new. But it did help put a name to what he had been feeling. Those strange urges only you sparked within him. His eyes darted to where the talisman hung. If you were truly serious, maybe you’d willingly remove it. But he didn’t want that. He enjoyed the idea of hunting you far more. He had a feeling you’d think similarly. All he knew was that your smile excited him. And he wanted more of that.

● Your third victim was less amused. The Nurse wasn’t sure what to make of your suicidal requests. “So, like, the cap thing stays on right?” you slurred, clearly inebriated. That amount of alcohol in your system was unhealthy. You’d complain about being hungover tomorrow. “God, are you also so strong? That would be so hot.”

● Her brow ticked. The way you spoke sounded like you wanted to be… pushed around. With forceful claws. Not hands. Claws.

● What was she to do with you? She couldn’t take the bottle away from you. Nor could she stop the honest desires spilling from your mouth. Desires that made her fingers twitch, something hungry peering from behind her human face.

● It only spurred you on, eyes catching on the small signs of inhumanity like a hawk. “You’re soooo pretty, uugh.” Then you… slumping on your seat, legs splayed too far to be appropriate. Fast asleep. She’d sigh if she were human. There were others who wanted to see you tonight. She wouldn't let them. No, this sight was for her, she decided. Vulnerable and far too willing in the face of danger. It was only right she kept an eye on you while in such a state.

● The fourth Creature? He tested your claims. All those daring words. The cowboy found your claims almost adorable. Almost. It unfortunately so happened to stir up something darker that took even him by surprise.

● Your reckless behavior made him want to get his hands on you. Teach you some things about teasing monsters like them. Because that’s what you claim to want. The claws. The teeth. The danger.

● “You could leave such a nice ring of teeth on me here,” you said, pointing at your bare thigh. “How wide do you think it’d be?” Your pointer finger and thumb spread a wider over the soft flesh. “This big?”

● His sharp teeth clicked together, imagining it himself. Skin parting, blood flowing. Scabs forming and fading into a beautiful, pale scar. A reminder of who branded you.

● Your words tended to become almost musing whenever he showed his other face like this. As if you genuinely thought about it. Desired it.

● He also knew you believed they didn’t care to reciprocate your interest. You believed they wanted to kill you still. How wrong you were. That ignorance won’t spare you from their collective frustration once they get you.

You made such pretty promises…

● The man in the yellow suit was a bit strange. Friendly, but strange. He said you were the same. Strange, but friendly.

● You didn’t exactly avoid the older man. But you certainly didn’t seek him out either. He often found his way into the same hiding spots. Found his way to the diner at the same time as you, or strolled along the same paths you did. The conversations that sparked up weren’t unpleasant in any way, though, often dug up old insecurities.

● The concern he showed made you feel warmer, knowing someone would miss you when you’d be gone.

● And strangely, whenever you talked, he seemed… lonely. He had come alone, made friendly connections, but no true friends it seemed. He often retired to his room during the day and kept to himself when it was time to hide. Private and outgoing at once. It made you search him out too, feeling sympathy for such a kind, elderly man.

● But then one day… he stumbled across you while you arranged gifts for the monsters.

● Terror had gripped your lungs, keeping oxygen there until it grew too thin to sustain you. However, instead of fearful accusations and anger, he had been curious. Accepting even.

● He beheld the pile of things that you knew would be appreciated. Shiny objects, watches, jewelry. Carved wooden things and books and random apparatus with an explanation on what they were.

● “Why would you leave them this?” he asked. So you told them the tales. Stories you heard about appeasing spirits or supernatural beings after trespassing on their land by leaving them gifts. It hadn’t always been as easy to find out what these creatures wanted beyond suffering and death. They took what they wanted and left the things they didn’t.

● For some reason he appeared almost amused by all this.

● And when he asked if it had helped? You could only let that knife in your heart be twisted harder. Because it hadn’t. Not for others. There were too many bodies and too little graves to hold them. But for you… it had.

● They had found you. You had been all alone. The one who got you had been a tall, ginger man. People had told you about their appearance, everyone repeating the few who’d truly seen them and survived to tell the tale. Human, smiling, capable of transforming into something monstrous.

● It had cornered you, promptly smiled wider and proceeded to ask about the gifts. He wanted to leave you a gift too. The scars on your collar ached. A sign of the life he hadn’t snuffed out that day.

● But now that your friend knew about it… you could finally show someone those scars. Let someone touch the fear to your unknown fate and comfort it with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

● Your friend who sought you out more compared to others. Who encouraged you to perhaps lessen these gifts and focus on better things. He began to tell you his own tales. Tales you could follow instead. Filled with magic, joy, and people escaping death.

Everyone needed a successor after all. Even if he himself wouldn’t die, but remain your guide for ages to come.

● But fond as he had become, the Creatures weren’t fond of this new twist in any way. They knew that time was coming. Had been preparing long before it got anywhere close.

● The stories you followed already spun the fate of foolish human protagonists who courted the supernatural. They would take you. Whisk you away to their home and never return you. And if they miraculously did, or you managed to flee, you’d be changed forever. Those were the stories you believed in. They didn’t mind making it reality.

● Then he came along and decided to try and lay claim on you as well. Truly, you needed to stop drawing so much attention from dangerous beings. The things he taught you without your knowledge were of magical nature. Grooming you to become something they wouldn’t allow you to become.

● You were theirs first. Marked by one of theirs even. If that man decided to ever remove that scar… Well, they can make a new one, yes, but this claim had been their gift to you. A sign to show you were different.

● He knew of the claim. But they knew he’d never fully respect it. Fortunately, you were very taken by the other gifts they left you. Very interested in the notes they’d leave for you in places he wouldn’t be able to find. Time was running out, but they were confident the hook had found its target.

● It’s the little things. Those small moments where it becomes clear you are human and they are not. Softer, more fragile, easier influenced by bodily needs. 

● Do you not understand with whom you sit? How many of your kind they slaughtered and will continue slaughtering? 

● Perhaps that’s what gets to them. Because you are aware and still remain close. They do hurt you. If you get out of line or were to ever snap out of this comfort they will hurt you only more to keep you close. Are you aware of that too? How thin the line between lover and prey is to them?

● You aren’t like them. You are more free in a way and they can’t risk you using that privilege against them. Can’t risk you abandoning them. Loyalty is what they crave and from each other they know to expect it. But you… Oh, how different you are.

● They watch you. Check your emotional state. Some might not admit it, but they need to be chosen. Force would be easy, yes, but not anywhere as satisfying. And every sign of comfort, of ease and satisfaction is met by a stillness in their chest. No human hums or sings to themselves when tense. No human sleeps so soundly when afraid.

● Seeing these things is enough, eats through that gnawing need to control and claim. It softens them. But simultaneously makes them hunger in different manners…

● Smiley knows you are more prone to clumsiness. It’s different each day. Sometimes you have ‘one of those days’ as you explain it. Things slip from your grasp, you stumble over things, bump into corners and walls. And typically, you wind up cussing a little or become otherwise frustrated.

● He finds it adorable. He is quite sure it’s akin to the sensation humans gain from watching little, furry animals.

● On some of ‘those days’, you can be genuinely prickly. One final mishap and you either explode or get really close to doing so. 

● And, even if he wasn’t wiser, he wouldn’t have been able to torment you over this regardless. Watching you practically shake apart over these little mistakes is precious. Fills him with desire to press near you and squeeze you. You called it cuddle aggression. He supposes it could be called such.

● He feels similar when you get ‘hangry’. How easily worked up you get all because you are low on energy. Oppositely, how you may instead become quieter and more agreeable. 

● But then… there are moments for him too. You truly are unaware how much you can influence him with very little. He brings you food, of course he does. You are his. …But do you have to eat like that?

● The taste must be exquisite, because you nearly moaned at it. Face contorting in ways he can't, nor won't, look away from. Perhaps there was some truth in his brethren’s philosophy. Getting you foods beyond necessity had its plusses. The way you slide the fork or spoon over your tongue, delight flashing in your eyes at the taste… Yes. He’ll be trying to get you better things than he already did.

● And, oh, when you fidget, he has that same surge in his chest. You do it with your clothes to see how they fit. When you’re nervous. When you’re bored. 

● If angered by one thing or the other? You sometimes tremble, glaring as if it would be frightening for anyone to behold. Not to him. Not to them.

● The one thing that truly makes him melt are those little moments where you show honesty. Be it instinctive, or simply because. Latching onto his arm when frightened. Complementing him, especially on things he does and not merely regarding his appearance. Sleeping in his presence. Turning your back to him despite the clear danger he presents.

● You make him go quiet. Make him question how such a fragile being has wormed itself into his heart. He isn’t safety, isn’t comfort. But he is present—complicit in these soft moments—and that has him twisting so painfully gently inside, he’s sure he’ll crack ever so slightly.

● When he does, he isn’t certain whether to ruin you or press close and listen to your stubborn human heart. The line between lover and predator is thin after all...

-——————————————————————-

“You know, there’s games where you can’t sleep if enemies are nearby,” you said, spilled half over his lap. His fingers traced along your spine, up and down the lightest protrusions of vertebrae. 

“What strange games take so long you need to sleep inbetween?”

"Videogames.” He heard you yawn, your head turned too far away for him to see. Already that ache started within him. It hurt. It was alien and still so known to him. Warped over the years. Revitalized now that they have you.

“Will you explain?”

You mumbled something, nestling more comfortably over his lap. For you, it had been a long day filled with the smallest mishaps that touched you most deep. He’ll keep his curiosity in check, stilling himself impossibly more as your breath evened out. 

Within seconds, you were asleep. Comfortable in his lap. A privilege not many of his kind had. He was quite unique in this and he couldn’t fully contain the pride entwining with that soft sensation.

His hand flattened over your ribs, moving with the expansion and deflation of your lungs. The lightest tremble sat in his fingers. His instincts were confused on what to do with this trust…

He allowed it to form ideas. From ripping into flesh, marking you for life as he wished to do, to burying himself within you until your blunt nails tore into him instead. 

But the image he settled on... was this. This moment. The touch on your ribs counting your slow breaths. The arms curled close to your face, one palm, filled with blood, pressed against his thigh.

And the quiet took a different tint. Calmer. Shutting down the need for violence. 

Their hold was tight. As if they knew you’d bolt if given the chance.

Muscles nipped at your neck, sucking bruises into your skin without preamble. His big hands kneaded at your thighs. Warming you up for what was to come, that coil already winding low in your belly.

He wouldn’t allow you to press your legs shut, keeping you open for the cowboy’s wandering hands. You bit your lip. His fingers played with you, toyed. Sliding up and down.

Up… and down…

Breath hitching whenever he nearly dipped inside, or got close to rubbing where you were most sensitive. Without fail, he avoided doing either. Turning the heat in your belly into an ache you couldn't ignore.

But squirming—

Forced out a pained hiss, blunt, human teeth snapping into your skin. A tongue licked at the stinging bruise next.

Be good, the pain told you.

Even though you wanted to run some more. Try and get them to lose patience and fight over you like animals for once. They always worked together. Frustratingly patient even now.

God, the mere idea of them pouncing and taking—

Two fingers eased inside you. You gasped, instinctively clenched your legs together. Those big hands stopped you, digging into the meat of your inner thighs, wrapping over, under and—

You stifled a yelp, bare feet lifting from the forest ground, the sting left by gravel and sharp rocks long gone to the back of your mind. The cowboy wrapped his free arm around your waist. His fingers slowly dragged out and pressed back inside. You clenched uselessly around the intrusion, toes curling.

“You’ve been cruel, sweetheart,” he murmured against your ear, keeping that agonizingly slow pace up. “Playing with us like that,” The other creature pulled your legs further apart, preventing you from bucking into the teasing touch.

“Just returning the favor,” you said, too tense.

Muscles chuffed a laugh against you, leaning back with that sharp grin. He encouraged you to wrap one leg around him. With a swallow, you complied, heat flushing your skin as you pulled him a little closer. He reached, wrapping his fingers feather light around your throat. You froze, clamped down harder on the cowboy’s fingers.

In his eyes sat scrutiny as they roamed your face. Lingering on yours. You barely had time to see something in him snap, releasing your throat and—

Fabric dug into your ass, the front of your pants tearing to shreds under his claw and dropping in tatters to the ground. Your stomach flipped, a spike of adrenaline and thrill pouring through it.

They switched, the cowboy slipping free and grabbing hold of your thighs, looping his arms underneath. The bulkier creature sank to his knees before you. You managed to glimpse glittering eyes and a vicious grin—let out a startled moan as his tongue split you open. His palm flattened over your belly, pressing you firmly against the cowboy.

Who's hard length dug into your back. You tensed, remembering their intentions.

Muscles impatiently tugged his belt free single handedly, licking sloppily and rumbling against you, little shocks of electricity snapping over you when he brushed over your clit. His blown pupils burned into you, sharp nails raking a tad too roughly over your skin, goosebumps and pain following in their wake. You reached for purchase when that hand trailed down, pushing thick fingers inside you. Knocked the cowboy’s hat off to grasp at his hair, soft strands pulled taut.

“Easy, sweetheart,” the cowboy murmured beside your ear, shrugging your legs further apart. “We need to get you ready for us.”

The hold on his hair tightened as that wet tongue focussed on your clit, hectic movements turning smooth and slow. Lapping, lips wrapping around you as if to swallow you whole. His fingers scissored you open. Your head dropped back with a small moan at the stretch. At the way he looked up at you, eyes nearly rabid with hunger.

“One of you… could just… f-fuck my mouth.” It left you breathily, the pauses between words loud. A low quake began to settle in your thighs.

A third joined, stretching you further. You whimpered, tried to buck the best you could.

The cowboy chuckled, his chest shaking against you, lips pressing to your jaw. “Let’s see about that after we’re done with your pussy.” His thumb stroked over your skin, teeth tugging on an earlobe. Unbudging on their desire.

The fourth finger pushed inside, your walls already straining to accommodate them.

A sliver of fear snared around your neck, mixing into a heady mixture with the pleasure and thrill. The next brush of his tongue was more vivid, the coil tensing. And tensing, heat pushing over your loins and into trembling limbs. A soft cry left you, a wave of pleasure spilling over you, quick and too soon.

Back arching, eyes closing, mouth falling open at the influx of hormones. Quiet praise was pressed into the side of your neck.

There we go. So good for us. Eager little thing.

A growl of approval rumbling against you, the buff creature lapping more thoroughly, fingers keeping up their steady pace.

It pushed the electricity further up your body, limbs trembling in the cowboy’s grip. Then it fizzled, slowly ebbing away as senses snapped back. Too sensitive. You wriggled. Tried to dislodge the mouth still working at your bud, accidentally slipping free from his fingers with a wet noise.

Both of them moved with you, their amusement nearly tangible while preventing you from getting away.

“Thought you were feeling empty?” The cowboy whispered, throwing back the words you teased them with so often. Accompanied by near stripshows sometimes.

“—is nothing in me,” you gritted, tears pricking at your eyes, reaching and pulling at the offender’s hair. Knocking his cap off too. Purposely this time. It only made him chuckle, tongue licking one final stripe upwards, before releasing you fully with a wet sound.

You slumped in the cowboy’s grasp, head falling to his shoulder, chest heaving. Light numbness settling in your lower region.

Fabric shifted, clinking accompanying it. Chills trailed along your spine. Hot and cold. Afraid and excited. You swallowed hard as you were pressed forward, right into the other’s grasp. Shrugged closer until your chest was flush with a bared one, buttons opened in the short moment you had to recover. His grin sat in front of you, wetness still coating his lips. Your cheeks grew warmer.

You pressed your face into the crook of the bulky creature’s neck. Hands finding purchase on his chest, hairs tickling your slick palms.

A zipper opened behind you—

“S-still think this is a b-bad idea.”

You tested the bulky creature's hold, a trickle of fear squeezing at your organs when his length pressed to your belly. Twitching.

This wasn’t enough prep.

Four fingers, thick as they were, couldn’t prepare you for their combined girth—

Warm palms clasped around your hips, the cowboy’s front met your back. He bumped into your ass.

“That’s a shame.” His smile nestled into your neck. “You better relax, sweetheart. We aren’t in the mood to be gentle.”

They lifted you even higher, legs tugged wide apart.

Then you saw something, eyes snapping to the side—to the small crowd watching everything unfold. Distant enough to seem like they didn’t. All turned your way anyway.

Something close to shame flushed along your neck. An emotion they still hadn’t fully fucked out.

A blunt head slid past your lower lips, gathering wetness and startling a shaky exhale from you. You tried to relax your muscles as the second one settled against your hole. Heart thumping so loud, you feared it would break your ribcage.

There you were left, hovering over their cocks. For one breath. Two. Three. You bit your lip—

Muscle’s eyes widened, something raw and wild in them. His hips thrusted upwards. Nudged against you, filling you halfway as your body parted for him. He growled, nails digging into your thighs. Your mind lagged behind, processing being empty—

And then so full.

Pleasure twisted at your loins, hot and sharp.

You gasped in time with the snarl behind you. The cowboy’s head dipped over your shoulder. His eyes were on the other creature, teeth too sharp. The grip on your hips tightened. Clear challenge settled over the bulkier creature’s face, his grin growing.

It elevated the heady pleasure. They were fighting. Impatient.

A second cock pushing insistently against you. You jumped, flailed from the increasing pressure.

“Keep still.” The command came out wrong. Close to a growl. Uncharacteristic impatience in his movements.

His hips snapped up.

Hard.

Impossibly, your body split wider. Opened up for both of them.

Searing pain lanced through your lower body as he entered. Snug against his fellow creature. Air punched from your lungs, a scream stuck somewhere in your chest. Spasming to the point they dug their fingers deeper into you to keep you shackled. Your mouth sat open in a silent cry, vision blurring.

“Breathe,” the muscular creature said quietly, clasping your jaw gently. The third time you’d heard him speak now.

You tried, but your mind could only focus on the pain. The stretch. Dizziness streaked over your thoughts.

They nuzzled against you, nipping and purring. Whatever strife they had already gone.

“Breathe,” he repeated against your skin, even softer.

You inhaled sharply then, their chests reverberating while yours heaved. Sweat trickled down your temples. Thighs quaking in their grasp. With the next gentle nip, your body relaxed slightly. Enough. Grew wetter.

One pressed forward, up and up, barely getting deeper but overwhelming you worse than anything they’ve ever done. The other pulled back. Pushing back in as the other dragged himself out.

The pain didn’t lessen, even as you became even wetter. Entwined itself with the snaring coil in your navel.

They set a slow rhythm, growling and purring. Never left you empty. It made you sob, deep inside proud and horrified and so incredibly hot at being nothing but a fucktoy between them.

Legs wrapped around the bulky creature without input. Claws seared deep inside your hips when you tried to climb up. Away from the burning, painful, perfect stretch. You cried out.

“Next time you run, you better hope you can stay away.” The undertone was unhinged. Something darker. Ancient and malignant. It made you clench, fresh slick trickling along their lengths. The cowboy’s fingers snared around your throat. Squeezing. “Those pretty legs aren’t necessary to live.”

Pressure built in your head in time with your core. Blood pulsing in your ears. Their hips moving faster, hitting deeper. You would’ve laughed if you could, but only croaked pathetically. Watched how your big guy’s face contorted between snarl and grin. Human and monster.

You won.

The coil strung tighter. Heat washing over your core.

They lost their patience.

Muscles trembled, walls stretched beyond their limit, aching wonderfully awfully.

Threatened you.

When nails snagged on your thighs, pain and hot blood beading along your skin—

The coil snapped, light bursting behind your eyes. Fizzling the trees out, the faces watching from between. The hold on your throat vanished. You heaved a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out in a cry that could only be described as wounded.

Walls clamped down so hard, they stopped moving. One halfway inside, the other’s head the only part still nestled within.

You stared up at the stars above, cried out to them until your voice turned hoarse. Collapsed. Pulse thudding loudly, body shaking. Your damp forehead pressed to a muscular chest, fingers clawing into a broad back.

“I…” you began, after calming a little, panting, “won.”

They remained quiet. Almost as if contemplating.

“Won…” They chuckled in time, not entirely human. “Sweetheart,” it was said as a reprimand, “still playing games?”

Their pace started again, one cock twitching. The drag was worse now, making you clench your teeth.

“I think we know which game…”

The grin was audible in his voice. That soulless thing that spoke of horrors your human mind couldn’t conceive. A head nuzzled against you with a chuff.

“We’ll make it more beastly for you then.”

The laughter afterwards was conspiratorially. Shared by the bigger crowd.

With the next swipe of gentle claws along your side—